


Border of Life

by dicksoutforproblematiccontent



Series: No Control (Genseph torture/breeding AU) [3]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Angst, Bodily Fluids, Body Dysphoria, Body Horror, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dissociation, Dubious Science, Flashbacks, Forced Pregnancy, Giving Birth, Group dynamics, Hopeful Ending, Horror, Hurt No Comfort, Immobility, Incontinence, Infant Death, Infanticide, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Other, Pain, Panic Attacks, Past Experimentation, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Past Unethical Science, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pregnancy, Self-Hatred, Tension, Unresolved Arguments, Whump, ask to tag, intersex Sephiroth, runaways - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:55:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25970944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dicksoutforproblematiccontent/pseuds/dicksoutforproblematiccontent
Summary: One does not escape from Shinra's science department unscathed.Life isn't easy when you're on the run from the company that practically owns the entire world. Especially not if you're still recovering from what they did to you.Being dependent on others for pretty much everything is not what Sephiroth considers a good life, but at least it's better than being some sort of lab rat for Hojo and Hollander to poke at. Recovery is a slow, frustrating journey, and he's only at the beginning.Now if only the parasite in his gut would stop slowing him down evenmore.
Relationships: Genesis Rhapsodos/Sephiroth(implied)
Series: No Control (Genseph torture/breeding AU) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1846177
Comments: 18
Kudos: 47





	Border of Life

**Author's Note:**

> Note: this is part of the "No Control" series. It is advisable to read both "No Control" and "Now, Until the Moment You Die" before this, but whatever, I'm not your boss. 
> 
> The people asked for more, and who am I to say no to that? Certainly not me, people pleaser extraordinaire!
> 
> ... Hah, no, but really, I'm not usually one to take requests and stuff, but I already had an idea for this, and then people were like "we want more!", so... here we are. Maybe it's not entirily what you guys wanted, but ah well. I write to please myself first and foremost, though I always hope there might be other people who enjoy it as well.
> 
> Sephiroth's POV this time lads.
> 
> For those who want to read this but aren't interested in the "birth" part, you may stop reading after the "nightmare" segment. In other words, after the following sentences:
> 
> _“Remember, Sephiroth.” Hojo’s eerie, crooning voice rips through the fog. “No matter what you do…”_
> 
> _“You’ll always be mine.”_
> 
> Obligatory "fiction is not the same as reality, what are you, three?" disclaimer. In other words: Don't like; don't read.
> 
> If you feel like I missed a tag, let me know!

Walking is so much harder than it has any right to be.

Sephiroth can’t help the groan of frustration as he’s forced to lean on Zack, Angeal’s student, to make his way to their designated peeing spot. He’s a good sport about it, not belittling Sephiroth about his weakened state of being, especially in comparison to the great SOLDIER First he used to be. Shinra’s so-called, inadequate poster child.

Nowadays he can’t even see his own feet under his impossibly large, stretched out stomach, can’t even carry his own weight with his atrophied, starved body. He doesn’t want to think about it. Doesn’t want to be reminded of what the science department did to him this time, to be reminded that he was never more to them than an object to be _used_ , but the heaviness and size of his abdomen, the occasional cramps and what he can only assume to be the parasite inside him _kicking,_ serve as a _quite literal_ reminder of everything; of needles and drugs, pain, being touched in places nobody should ever, _ever_ touch, invasion of his body, his mind-

He doesn’t realize his breath starts quickening until Zack points it out to him.

“Sephiroth? Hey- you’re starting to hyperventilate- shit. Breathe with me for a moment? That’s right, just follow my lead…”

Sephiroth concentrates on feeling the rhythm Zack sets, his chest expanding and contracting with every breath, and slowly his own breathing evens out. The memories linger at the forefront of his mind, however, and he can’t help the occasional shudder that runs through his body, nor the way his legs tremble, forcing him to lean even _more_ on Zack.

Zack doesn’t deserve any of the shit he puts up with. Not as Angeal’s student. Not as a Shinra fugitive. Not as a mediator for Genesis’ ever more violently growing temper.

(Not that Sephiroth can blame Genesis, not when he understands the anger at being _useless_ like this so well himself.)

Zack definitely doesn’t deserve to be a caretaker for an incubation experiment like Sephiroth.

Now that he’s calmed down a bit, he realizes there’s something warm and wet dripping down his legs, and he almost wants to scream out his frustration for his _worthless_ body.

He’s pissed himself.

Again.

The only reason he doesn’t react to it beyond a tired, irritated sigh is that making too much noise would likely alert the farmer whose barn they’ve crashed in for the night. It’s not ideal, especially not for him and his parasite, but it’s the best they can do without alerting Shinra. Even with his hair hastily chopped off, anyone would recognize Sephiroth’s eyes the moment they looked at him; an inn is out of the question, no matter how appealing they may seem.

The first night away from labs had taught them that much, at least.

“Zack,” he mutters hoarsely, “it- it’s fine, bring me back.”

“But you didn’t-?” Zack starts to say, before the implication of Sephiroth’s words hit him. “Oh.”

There’s a small pause, and Sephiroth can’t help the way his eyes narrow in anger, shame at himself, before Zack turns them around, already sputtering out some nonsense in a low voice, a vague attempt to make Sephiroth feel better about himself.

“Hey, it’s fine, we can just clean it up! We’ll be plowing through the Marshes tomorrow anyway, so not like nothing would’ve stayed clean anyway, even _if_ we’re putting you and Genesis on a chocobo-“

It’s a genuine attempt. Sephiroth might have appreciated it, _before_.

Now?

It only serves to make him feel _worse_.

“Don’t.” He exhales. “Just… stop.”

He pretends not to notice the way Zack’s steps falter for a moment.

“Ah… sorry.” Zack murmurs. He sounds like he wants to say something else, but thinks better of it in the end, silently trudging back to their ‘bed’; though calling _hay_ a bed may be a bit generous.

Rounding the corner of the empty stable they’ve claimed, Sephiroth doesn’t immediately notice that Angeal’s sitting upright, eyes sleep-tired but alert, not until the man grunts out a small greeting, which causes Sephiroth to flinch at the unexpected sound. His heart rate spikes for a moment, anxiety shocking his body- until he lays eyes on his old friend and Zack returns Angeal’s greeting in kind.

“Everything okay?” Angeal asks.

“Yeah.” Zack says while lowering Sephiroth to the ground, next to a still sleeping Genesis. “Sephiroth just needed to pee. He had, ah, a little accident, though.”

Sephiroth cringes at the way Zack words it, trying to curl in on himself in shame- though his attempt is mostly blocked by his stomach. His underwear is uncomfortably wet, though the gown he’s wearing in lieu of regular clothes (not that anything even fits him anymore) is, mercifully, mostly dry. Zack and Angeal both already know the deal with this, with how frequently his bladder fails him nowadays ( _goddamn parasite-_ ) and are quick to get one of the two duffel bags with their meager belongings.

Sephiroth hates how much space his spare clothes take up thanks to his _incontinence._

Angeal settles next to him, holding one of his spare (stolen) briefs, while Zack settles into the hay at the other side of Genesis, turning away from the both. Perhaps he’s trying to give Sephiroth privacy; not that any of that really matters anymore to someone who’s been used as an experiment by Shinra.

“Do you need me to help this time, Sephiroth? Or…” Angeal asks, before trailing off and giving a pointed look at the underwear.

Sephiroth almost wants to scream. Maybe cry. Maybe both.

He does neither, instead lifting a trembling hand towards Angeal, and snatching the briefs as soon as the man offers them. For a minute or so, he struggles with getting off the soiled pair while fighting both his still-recovering muscles and his in-the-way stomach. The hay below him tickles and stings his naked skin, before his squirming causes it to prick through the fabric of his gown, and he needs to take a moment to collect himself. He tries again for another minute. And another.

The way Angeal looks at him in pity when he finally stops struggling is almost not worth the help.

He feels like a goddamn _child_ , incapable of taking care of himself as Angeal effortlessly slips the wet briefs off of him, respectfully looking away even as he wipes him down with an old rag they keep just for this. He shudders as Angeal passes his dick, the scar where his testicles used to be, his- _his labia_ , trying not to think about it too much; and then trying not to feel too angry as Angeal apologizes for doing so. He’s trying to help, trying to keep Sephiroth comfortable. Sephiroth knows this. Wants to appreciate it, really, he does.

He still _hates_ how helpless he’s become, and he shouldn’t be mad at Angeal for being careful when he still has debilitating flashbacks and panic attacks daily; most, if not all of them, caused by the reminder of his own body and the parasite that grows within it. He shouldn’t begrudge Angeal for being mindful of that.

But he just _hates_ the way they treat him, like he’s made of _glass_ , almost as much as he hates being helpless.

He barely suppresses an agitated growl as Angeal puts the dry underwear on him, coaxing ( _manipulating_ ) his body until it covers him properly.

He doesn’t, however, hide the frustration in his voice when he spits a curt ‘thank you.’ Angeal’s way, not even listening if the man has anything to say in response before rolling on his side and closing his eyes. He ignores the way the hay pricks him as much as he ignores Angeal laying down between him and Genesis, the hair on his neck rising as he senses the other’s hand hovering over his body, before its owner apparently thinks better of it. The hay rustles as Angeal adjusts himself, not quite touching Sephiroth as he does so, mercifully. He’s not in the mood for human contact anymore.

“Sleep well, Sephiroth.” Angeal mutters, voice low as to not wake Genesis. “Forgive me.”

Sephiroth doesn’t reply.

* * *

Despite his best attempts and the bone-deep exhaustion that lingers inside him pretty much constantly nowadays, sleep doesn’t come to him that night; he’s kept awake by his spiraling thoughts, an emotional turmoil he has little to no control over, as well as an occasional aching pain and the movement of the _parasite_ in his body. Sometime during the night, Genesis shoots awake with gasp, a barely suppressed whimper that Sephiroth pretends not to notice. Genesis’ breathing is heavy for a few minutes, but quiet enough not to wake Zack and Angeal- and Sephiroth, had he actually been asleep.

For the sake of Genesis’ dignity, Sephiroth pretends he is anyway.

Genesis’ breathing calms down eventually, but it never quite goes back to the slow, deep inhales that indicate sleep. He’s probably realized Sephiroth isn’t sleeping either, but doesn’t call him out on it.

The moment Genesis starts muttering _Loveless_ under his breath, Sephiroth gives up on sleep entirely, and merely sighs as he opens his eyes, staring into the dark, listening.

By the time Angeal and Zack get up, before dawn even breaks (they can’t risk getting spotted by the farmer), Genesis has recited the entirety of Loveless exactly 23 times, and Sephiroth has to pee. Again. While Zack sneaks into the fields nearby to steal one of the chocobos they spotted yesterday, Angeal helps Sephiroth; and thankfully he doesn’t piss himself this time, even if the parasite causes another cramp that makes him want to double over and hiss not even a few seconds later. He resists the urge, but doesn’t quite manage to suppress a pained grimace or hide the way his steps wobble a little more than normal.

Genesis stumbles past them on the way back, leaning heavily against the walls for support, a fierce and determined look on his face. When Angeal asks him if he needs his help, all the man gets for his trouble is a biting ‘mind your own business’.

It only serves as a reminder of how useless his own body is, putting all its energy into the _parasite_ rather than recovering his own strength. The envy he feels for Genesis in that moment is ugly and bitter; he should be glad his friend is recovering, but frustration and jealousy overtake any positive emotion he could possibly be feeling right now.

When Angeal lowers him to the ground again, he gets another kick from the parasite, and he’s starkly reminded of Hojo shoving one of his apparatuses inside him without any of the grace that he’s sure would be expected of a regular gynecologist. Poking around inside him, deep as it could go. No regard for if he was in pain or not. Checking for things he didn’t even know could be checked, muttering about _insemination_ and _natural samples-_ though he can’t remember what exactly was happening anymore, at that point-

He forces himself to focus on the sight of Angeal’s retreating form going after Genesis, and when he disappears around a corner, he focuses on the sound of a chocobo warbling somewhere nearby. He pushes the memory down, swallows the bile in the back of his throat. Keeps his breathing steady. Tries not to let it overtake him as he waits for everyone to get back.

(Because he’s too fucking worthless to do anything himself.

How the mighty have fallen, he wryly thinks to himself.)

By the time Zack returns with a chocobo, Genesis and Angeal are back as well. There’s no time wasted as they help Sephiroth on top of the somewhat confused creature, who keeps making questioning ‘ _kweh’_ noises at them, but doesn’t protest when Sephiroth is lowered on its back, grasping the fluff of its neck, nor when Genesis settles behind Sephiroth with Zack and Angeal’s help as well. It’s clearly a chocobo that’s used to humans as well as heavy lifting; it doesn’t even falter as Zack leads it back outside, and then away from the farm.

Despite having a chocobo, however, Angeal still carries one of their bags. Just to be safe.

They’re quiet as they leave the farm behind, and Sephiroth’s grateful for it. Genesis’ warm weight against his back is distinctly uncomfortable, and while Genesis does his best not to hold on to him, keeping himself steady by grabbing the chocobo’s feathers rather than Sephiroth’s sides, the lack of space on the bird’s back forces him to lean forward against Sephiroth.

He doesn’t want to feel this way around Genesis; he doesn’t blame the man for what they were put through, but the combination of vague flashes of the man under him, pressed up against him as Hojo and Hollander watched, and the _rocking_ motion as the chocobo trots forward is enough to make Sephiroth’s skin _crawl,_ hot and itchy, his hands trembling as he tries to keep himself from squirming in place. Genesis being tense as a bowstring doesn’t help matters in the slightest, puffs of breath in his neck at a faster pace than what is considered normal. He hates how easily he’s getting swept up in his own emotions, in his own discomfort. His head is spinning a little, he can feel himself getting lost into yet another memory, and it’s taking all his concentration not to lose sight of reality. He hates it so much, hates _this_ so much, hates his shitty _body_ and his even more shitty _brain_ -

“It’s not your fault.” He says without thinking, voice low, and it takes a moment to register he said it out loud, not realizing until he hears the way Genesis’ breath catches, the way he startles. A rattling wheeze. A head slumping against his neck.

There’s a questioning noise from Angeal, a stark reminder that it’s not just Sephiroth and Genesis, and isn’t that just yet another testament to how much the labs had impacted Sephiroth? Forgetting people even as they walk near him? His fists tighten in the chocobo’s feathers in frustration, gritting his teeth-

“I can’t repeat it enough, but I’m so sorry, Sephiroth. I’m so sorry.” Genesis mutters interrupting his thoughts. The fiery temper from this morning gone, replaced by a guilt-ridden, traumatized man that Sephiroth never would have associated with someone like Genesis before. Suddenly the anger is gone, replaced by a bone-deep _loathing_ at himself for being envious of Genesis, earlier.

Genesis can walk a little, perhaps, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t heavily impacted by Hojo and Hollander’s meddling as well.

Just because Genesis isn’t carrying the parasite doesn’t mean it’s not a physical reminder for him, either.

That Sephiroth was forced as much onto Genesis as Genesis was forced onto him.

That Genesis also was part of god knows how many experiments.

“It’s not your fault.” Sephiroth repeats.

Whether he means the words for himself or Genesis, he’s not entirely sure.

Maybe both.

Genesis doesn’t reply this time, the silence stretching between them until it’s broken by Zack, who tries to turn everyone’s attention to more lighthearted topics. Like the way there’s wild chocobos in the distance, running in a pack, and wow, isn’t the sunrise pretty? Aren’t the grasslands so much nicer than the dead area surrounding Midgar, just wait until you see the Gongagan jungles-

It’s easier to ignore the way his stomach keeps clenching up painfully or the way Genesis’ body rocks against his own when he concentrates on Zack’s voice. It’s a little amazing how positive he stays, even as he’s on the run from the company that practically owns the world; not to mention how it doesn’t seem to bother him that neither Genesis or Sephiroth can travel on their own. Despite everything, he hasn’t complained once, just faced it all with boundless energy and an unrivaled cheer.

Zack the Puppy indeed.

(How much of that cheer is forced and how much is real remains up for debate, however. Sephiroth wasn’t good at reading people _before_ , but now…)

After travelling for a good two to three hours, they start nearing the edge of the Marshes, the grasslands slowly but surely giving way for soggier grounds, trenches of muddy water becoming larger and appearing more and more frequently. It’s around this time that Sephiroth feels the urge to pee again, and Angeal calls to take a break so everyone can do their business, as well as eat something now that they’re far enough away from the farm.

They choose to stop under one of the sparse, gloomy looking trees, tying the chocobo down to keep it from running, and Sephiroth doesn’t complain as Angeal sets him with his back against the bark after helping him piss. It’s a welcome change from Genesis’ warm body, and he allows himself to lean backwards against it, ignoring how the moisture from the ground below starts creeping into his clothes as he accepts a rations bar from Zack.

The taste is neutral and the texture is dry, but it’s better than not getting to eat at all, having to rely on nutrition through IV drips and injections.

Hojo’s scraggly face flashes into his mind’s eye.

He swallows his bite silently, and forces himself to listen to the conversation between Zack, Genesis, and Angeal.

It’s mostly mundane, a repeat of their plan in case they run into a Midgar Zolom, followed by mindless chatter from Zack and Angeal, and Loveless quotes by Genesis (betraying how uncomfortable the man still is, but nobody calls him out on it). He adds his own thoughts whenever he deems it appropriate, or when one of the others addresses him directly, but he’s never been a big talker. Quips and taunts during spars, sure, especially when it was so funny to see Genesis work himself up, but he’s always expressed himself better through action than words.

He ignores the hollow, almost nostalgic pain the memories of his spars with Angeal and Genesis brings him. How carefree he was, then, on top of the world. Not worrying that Hojo would ever get his dirty claws on him again.

(He might have even been in love with Genesis, at that time.

How he wishes he could just rewind time back to those moments.)

Still, the conversation is mostly pleasant. It’s almost like he’s back in better times, on a mission with his favorite people in the world. With a little effort he can pretend the robe he’s wearing is his old coat, and the plain red shirt and white shorts on Genesis are a modified version of his uniform. Just taking a short break before going back to the grind.

Of course, that’s the moment his abdomen clenches _painfully_ once more, and he’s ripped from the fantasy as he can’t help but curl in on himself, hissing a curse. It’s almost like he can feel the parasite squirm _with_ the pain, torturing him, taunting him.

Only when the worst of it has passed, does he realize that the conversation has ground to a halt.

Everyone is staring at him.

“Excuse me.” He bites out, ignoring the bile in his throat at the violent reminder the parasite had given him, shadows of the labs dancing behind his eyes. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Sephiroth…” Genesis starts, but his mouth falls shut, eyes falling onto Sephiroth’s stomach before he looks away guiltily. Duly, Sephiroth notes that Genesis is a shade paler than he was moments ago, and he almost curses again.

“I can handle it.” He says. “It’s just an inconvenience. Nothing more.”

Yet, his hands are shaking without his permission, his spine ramrod straight. The urge to run his hands through his hair from top to bottom arises, wanting to soothe himself, but as he makes the aborted motion, he remembers his hair is too short now to do so.

He’s such a bad liar.

“Sephiroth… I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.” Angeal speaks up, and Sephiroth already hates how careful, how guarded his voice is. “I know this may not be the best moment, but I don’t think it can wait much longer.”

“We need to find a place where we can… camp out for a little while. Enough for you to…” Angeal trails off uncomfortably, before shaking his head, gaze hardening. “We need a safe place for you to give birth to your child, and soon.”

The words leaving Angeal’s mouth are like a punch to the gut.

Child.

His child.

No, no. He doesn’t have a child. He has a parasite. A parasite sucking out his energy, keeping him down while he should be recovering, a creature forced upon him by science. It’s not a child, least of all _his_ child. He doesn’t have a child within him. He has the result of an experiment growing in his stomach and it is _not_ a child.

It is a _parasite._

“It’s not a child-“ he chokes out- is he breathing properly? He can’t tell, he can’t- “It’s a _parasite_ , it’s not- I’m not-“

“Sephiroth- calm down, _please_.” Angeal’s voice is trying to be gentle yet firm, and it’s _not helping_ \- “We can’t keep ignoring this, Sephiroth- _you_ can’t keep ignoring this. I know you don’t like it, but you’ve carried a kid almost to term, and I know it’s tough, but please-“

“Angeal, I don’t think-“ Zack tries to speak up, tries to say something, but Angeal cuts him off.

“No, Zack. You know it too. We all do.” He sounds tired all of a sudden. “You do as well, Sephiroth.”

Sephiroth hisses, his head swimming. Why is Angeal doing this _now_ , why is he-?

“It’s a parasite.” He croaks, then a bit firmer; “It’s a _parasite._ ”

“Sephiroth-“

“No.”

“Sephiroth, come on-“

“ _No.”_

“You can’t just-“

“Angeal, maybe you’re-“

“Can you all just s _hut the fuck up?!”_

Genesis’ voice cuts through the Marshes, loud and a bit hoarse, but it’s dripping with an anger much more severe than they’re used to. It’s effective, causing everyone to snap their mouths shut, their eyes on _him_.

Genesis trembles, but doesn’t shrink back under the attention, even though he looks like he wants to, at least a little. It’s a far cry from the once proud SOLDIER first, but a small glimmer of it shines through, at that moment.

“ _The fates are cruel_ …” He sighs, narrowing his eyes. “Okay. First things first.”

“Angeal.” His gaze falls onto the burly man sitting next to him. “I know you’re trying to help- and you’ve already helped both Sephiroth and I more than anyone could reasonably expect. You continue to do so, and I’m immensely grateful for that- I’m sure Sephiroth is, too.” He nods at Sephiroth, and Sephiroth just huffs before Genesis continues. “But can you _maybe_ realize that the way you’re wording shit right now isn’t very, you know, s _ensitive to our trauma?_ I can’t even _look_ at Sephiroth half the time without being reminded of the hand I had in this, of what was _done_ to us- I-“ He shudders for a moment. “I can’t even _imagine_ what it’s like for him.”

Angeal bites his lip, then looks away in shame.

“I’m sorry. I’m trying my best, Genesis, I just want-“

“What’s best for everyone, yes, but you’re being a complete _ass_ about it, Angeal.” Genesis sighs again. “We’re trying our best here. It’s only been a few weeks, and Sephiroth’s been completely lucid for about half of those. Try to choose your wording a bit more… elegantly, next time.”

“Okay.” Angeal nods. “I’ll try my best.”

Genesis seems satisfied with that, and for a moment it seems like the conversation is over. Sephiroth wants to sigh in relief, he doesn’t really want to continue thinking about it-

But then Genesis turns his eyes towards Sephiroth, and oh, Genesis flinches initially as he automatically looks at Sephiroth’s stomach, but then his gaze is firm and unwavering, keeping his eyes _above_ chest level as he addresses Sephiroth next.

“Sephiroth.” He says a little harshly, and Sephiroth’s skin is already crawling.

“What.” He replies anyway, trying to keep the tremble out of his voice. “What is it now?”

Genesis gaze softens, and he shakes his head.

“I know this isn’t easy for you. It’s been hard on all of us, but especially so on you. I recognize that.” His voice has softened, but not in a… pitying way.

It’s rather nice, for a change.

“I know that it’s easier to just pretend like nothing’s going to happen,” Genesis continues, “but you have to admit, Sephiroth, that it isn’t helpful to anyone to be so stubborn about this. Not for you, not for us.”

“But-“

“No, hear me out.” Genesis interrupts him before he can say anything, and begrudgingly, he allows the man to continue. “You’re a logical man, Sephiroth. You always have been, from the moment I met you. Right now, we need you to be logical about this, Sephiroth, if only for your own sake.” Genesis gaze wavers, but doesn’t stray from his eyes. “Your body’s getting ready to… expel the parasite. You can recognize that, yes?”

He swallows uncomfortably, but curtly nods.

“Then you realize that Angeal has a point in that we need to find a safe place in order to allow that to happen?”

He doesn’t reply.

“Sephiroth?”

“I suppose.” He admits, though it’s with a bitterness at the back of his throat. “I can see what you’re saying.”

“Good.” Genesis weakly smiles at him- nothing like the cocky, devil-may-care smile that used to grace his features, but it’s something, at the very least. “That’s all I can ask of you, Sephiroth.”

The parasite tauntingly squirms in his stomach.

“I…” Angeal speaks up, clearing his throat. “I figured we should aim for Fort Condor.”

“Huh?!” Zack exclaims in surprise, eyes wide. “But Isn’t Fort Condor like, _part_ of Shinra?”

“Everything is part of Shinra these days.” Angeal scoffs. “But no, the reason I’m suggesting Fort Condor is because it’s only a few days’ worth of travel away, and in recent times, the people stationed there have been rebelling against the company. I was thinking… it might be a safe enough place- not to mention the only place that’s close enough, really.” He sighs. “It’s practically our only shot, unless we want to aim for Junon, but considering that not only is it at least two more weeks away…”

“Junon is also an important military base. Right.” Genesis finishes for him, then his gaze falls on Sephiroth. “What do you think, Sephiroth? It’s your parasite, after all.”

“Okay, seriously, do we have to call it a _parasite_ , though?” Angeal hisses under his breath, but a pointed look from Genesis causes him to shrink back, and he drops the argument.

Sephiroth sighs.

“I don’t care.” He says, looking away. “Fort Condor is the closest.”

“We’ve decided then?” Zack looks around, and everyone nods. “Alright-y! Let’s go!”

They’re quick to pack up after that; they’ve already spent too much time sitting idle. The Marshes aren’t a good place to dawdle, and even though technically they’re just on the cusp of dangerous territory, it pays to be wary. Sephiroth and Genesis are helped up on the chocobo again, and the bird coos as Angeal leads it forward, handing his bag over to Zack.

Genesis’ presence is as uncomfortable as it was earlier, especially as the parasite gives him another kick from the inside out. He almost can feel himself getting trapped again by one of Hojo’s machines, moved around like a _puppet_ , unable to decide for itself. He has to remind himself that Hojo can’t hurt him right now, that Genesis isn’t going to hurt him either.

He breathes out, and concentrates on the Marshes stretching before him.

They’re lucky to avoid the Midgar Zolom, though they come close to it once. After a good few more hours of travel and another piss break, they see the beast slithering by; just far enough away to not quite be a threat, but Angeal sends the chocobo running either way. Neither Sephiroth or Genesis are in any condition to be near a fight with such a creature, and the chocobo seems at least experienced enough to make a break for the Mythril Mines at the sight of the Zolom, Angeal and Zack trailing behind them.

The shocks of the running bird causes more painful clenches in Sephiroth’s gut; it’s a blessing that they crossed most of the Marshes without having to do this, because the parasite is clearly not happy with all the activity. At full speed, the chocobo is only a good few minutes away from the Mines at this point, and it soon skids to a quick halt, the gaping mouth of the Mines’ entrance breaking the mountain in two in front of them.

Still, Sephiroth feels weak, so _weak_ , his head spinning with the sudden pain caused by the parasite. His grip on the bird is slacking, hunching over, gritting his teeth- the chocobo makes a surprised ‘ _kweh!’_ noise, Genesis says his name-

And from one moment to the next, he finds himself on the ground, confused as to how he got there in the first place. His right side hurts, and the wetness of the nearby Marshes creeps into his gown- and he can’t help the pained moan that leaves his throat as his stomach clenches painfully once more.

“Sephiroth!” Genesis’ voice reaches his ears from high above him, and he casts his eyes upwards, seeing the redhead clutching onto the chocobo, struggling to keep himself from following in Sephiroth’s footsteps with the sudden lack of a body in front of him. Still, he seems to be more concerned about Sephiroth than himself, judging from his panicked eyes.

“Shit, are you okay?” Genesis asks once he regains his balance. “If I’d known you were going to pass out I would’ve grabbed onto you, but you just… kind of blacked out.”

Sephiroth adjusts himself, and is grateful to find the pain ebbing away.

“I’m fine.” He says. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Of course I worry about you, you idiot.” Genesis huffs, then looks away. “Zack, Angeal! Over here!”

There’s the noise of splashing water, the distinct _shlorp_ of boots in mud, and Sephiroth rolls onto his back with a sigh, looking up at the sky.

“What happened?” Zack appears in front of Sephiroth, a worried look on his face. “We saw you fall, but-“

“It’s nothing.” Sephiroth interrupts him. “I am fine.”

“You blacked out, asshole.” Genesis hisses. “I wouldn’t call that fine.”

“I have.” Sephiroth hisses right back. “So have you. So have we both, _multiple_ times since we’ve been away. What do you want to do about it?”

Genesis doesn’t reply to that.

Angeal sighs, and Sephiroth feels a cure wash over him.

“Sephiroth, don’t be so nonchalant about your health.” He says, shaking his head as he kneels down to help Sephiroth get up. “That could’ve ended worse than it did. If you’d landed on your stomach you could’ve not only injured yourself, but also your ch… parasite.”

“Good.” Sephiroth snipes back without thinking. “All the better.”

“Sephiroth!” Angeal sounds affronted. “It’s an innocent-“

“Angeal.” Genesis warns. “I think it’d be best if you stop talking now.”

“But- oh, for fuck’s sake.” Angeal huffs, and doesn’t speak anymore as he and Zack work together to lift Sephiroth up on the chocobo again. Zack looks a bit out of his depth, like he wants to make a comment himself, but isn’t sure what or how to say it.

Genesis grabs Sephiroth’s sides once he is situated, and Sephiroth almost, _almost_ wants to slap him.

He doesn’t. He’s too busy holding on to the chocobo as it starts walking again with Angeal’s guidance.

“If we don’t stop, we’ll make it out of the mines by nightfall.” Angeal says flatly. “I’m aiming for that.”

 _I know the terrain._ Sephiroth wants to bark back. _I know this shit._

Before he has a chance to grunt in affirmation, Zack is already babbling about everything and nothing again, trying to break the tension in the group. It’s a valiant attempt, and though it soothes Sephiroth to concentrate on his voice, it never quite chases away the sour feeling that has descended over all of them.

True to Angeal’s word (and his own knowledge, thank-you-very-much), by the time they arrive outside the mines, night has fallen, thousands of stars filling the night sky like natural little nightlights, the moon round and full enough to illuminate the landscape. Sephiroth’s stomach is aching, with hunger or thanks to the parasite he’s not sure, but he doesn’t complain about it. Their late dinner is a quick, silent affair despite Zack’s best efforts to raise the mood, and eventually he just gives up, turning around to feed the chocobo some greens.

Even puppies can run out of bark, it seems.

They find a little crevice in the side of the mountain, where they decide it will be best to stay the night. Zack starts a fire to dry their still-wet clothes, even though it causes the risk of being spotted from the air, and with a little help, Sephiroth exchanges his old gown for a dry one.

Better dry than running the risk of getting sick from sleeping in wet clothing.

The ground is a bit hard and uncomfortable after the hay last night, only softened a little by the thin blankets they have.

It doesn’t escape Sephiroth that Angeal chooses to lay the furthest away from him, only speaks to him when it’s absolutely necessary, and makes Zack take care of him when he tells them he has to take another piss.

Sephiroth almost scoffs at the pettiness. Almost.

By the time he’s allowed to lay down on his blanket, he’s absolutely exhausted from the day and the lack of sleep from the night before. The parasite keeps causing painful clenches in his gut, and for a moment he wonders if he’ll be able to sleep at all with the way the thing keeps reminding him of its presence.

Exhaustion wins out in the end, however.

Sleep takes him quickly and silently.

* * *

_White figures standing over him._

_Anger, fury cropping up in his throat. Yelling, screaming, struggling, but he’s ignored, wordless murmurs buzzing around him. People touching him, hurting him in places they have no right to touch, to hurt. Deep inside, so, so deep inside._

_Confusion, a cloying fog in his mind, thick and sticky like molasses. Sensations of pain, of betrayal, of desperation._

_His body weakening. His mind fraying. He’s tearing at the seams._

_Crying, pleading. No more. No more. He’s hurt. So badly hurt._

_He’s dying. He’s dying. He’s dying but kept alive, tubes crammed into every orifice, pumping into him, artificial life, artificial healing._

_Not good enough. Never good enough for the white coats. Anger. Fear. Pain._

_“Remember, Sephiroth.” Hojo’s eerie, crooning voice rips through the fog. “No matter what you do…”_

_“You’ll always be **mine.** ” _

* * *

With a choked gasp, Sephiroth shoots awake.

It takes him a moment to realize where he is; his mind is reeling, head spinning, Hojo’s cackles echoing through his mind like an endless reminder. Shadows of scalpels, gloved hands and masked faces appear in the corner of his vision every time he blinks. His breathing is irregular, labored, taking huge gulps of air to drive away the tightness in his chest. Pain rippling from his back to his stomach

Craggy mountainside. Night sky. Moonlight.

He’s not in the labs anymore, he reminds himself. The pain is the parasite. Not the scientists.

It was just a nightmare.

He tries to calm himself, tries to slow his breaths, but even as he adjusts himself, he keeps aching, an intense agony that lasts far too long to be comfortable. He groans, squirms, ignores the leftover panic in his mind. Concentrates on the regular, languid breaths of the three men sleeping close to him.

At least he didn’t wake them up with his idiotic nightmare.

God forbid.

The pain starts to ebb away finally, and at last Sephiroth feels himself calm down a little.

Just a nightmare, he reminds himself.

Nobody is going to hurt him.

He doesn’t fail to notice the moisture between his legs, now that his mind has cleared a little, and curses internally for pissing himself in his sleep. His underwear is soaking, as is his blanket and the gown.

He should probably wake someone up.

Except he really, really doesn’t feel like doing so. Angeal’s earlier words still hang in his mind, and he doesn’t want to deal with the man’s talk about _‘an innocent’_ or the weird pitying looks he throws every so often. Genesis is out of the question, and Zack… well.

Maybe Sephiroth just wants to show them that he’s not completely useless. That he _can_ take care of himself, even like this.

(Maybe he just wants to show himself that he’s not completely useless.) 

Settled on his decision to clean up after himself, he rolls over on his blanket, and starts crawling towards the now-dry clothes spread out near the still smoldering fire, which is far harder than it has any right to be. It’s nothing short of a miracle that while he was still half-drugged he managed to crawl through Shinra’s vents, when he has such a hard time even dressing himself, when he can barely make it a few centimeters before he has to stop to catch his breath.

Adrenaline at the time? The drugs making him ignorant of his own body’s limits? Perhaps. It doesn’t help him now.

What _certainly_ doesn’t help either is the parasite causing another painful clench in his gut, forcing him to pause and ride out the wave for a good minute. No amount of adjusting or squirming makes it go away, and he kind of wants to scream. At the parasite. At Hojo and Hollander. At Angeal. At the world.

At himself, maybe.

He’s not sure how long he actually takes to get to the clothes, and okay, they’re a bit dirty from the Marsh, but they’re dry, and he’ll feel better in dry clothes than piss-soaked ones. He sighs at the heat of the nearby coals, allows himself to bask in it for a minute, before he gets to work.

The gown isn’t too bad. He can just kind of slither out of it without having to reach past his belly, propping his arms inside before tugging it upwards. It’s a bit of a chore, but nothing impossible.

As he pulls the gown over his head, he becomes aware of the strange absence of the usually rather sharp, well, _piss_ scent that one could expect to cloy to a piss-soaked piece of clothing. It’s enough to make him pause, just for a second, before he decides he’s imagining things, surely.

He discards the gown, laying it down with the wet parts near the smoldering coals, and braces himself for the next step, reaching down for his underwear.

He tries to avoid looking at his own stomach, but it’s kind of impossible when he’s trying to change his underwear, so he just grits his teeth and closes his eyes as he tries to bend, squirming in place. His gut feels far more enormous than it probably is, and he adjusts his hands, prying his fingers between his skin and the underwear, trying to get a better grip. He silently grunts and curses as he fights the offending piece of clothing, but eventually manages to sit himself upright, almost crying out in victory when he succeeds in sliding the briefs down his legs far enough that he can just wiggle out of them-

Something flows out of his vagina, and the accomplished feeling is gone almost as soon as it came. He hadn’t noticed before, since he was holding himself in a mostly horizontal position, but now that he’s sitting upright, he can _definitely_ feel it.

Pee-like substance. And it’s _definitely not_ coming from his dick.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

It’s not pee.

It’s not pee _at all._

For a moment, he sits there dumbfounded, briefs forgotten around his knees as he tries to process this information, uncertain of what to do. He should… he should probably wake someone, shouldn’t he? Make a scene. Call for help.

He does exactly none of those things, body and mind paralyzed with… something. Fear? Is he afraid? His breaths are speeding up. Is he panicking? Is he starting to panic? He can’t- he can’t tell. His hands are trembling, his mind feels numb, vision wavering.

Pain rips through his lower body once more, an intense agony that snaps him back into reality, and with a pitiful moan he falls back to the ground, rolling onto his side as he curls in on himself to ride out the pain. He gasps for air, gritting his teeth, and oh, his body is betraying him once more, a desperate urge to do- to do _something_ grasping hold of him, but he doesn’t know what, it’s not- he’s not-

Nausea takes hold of him, bile rising in his throat as the pain continues rippling through his gut, his hips, his thighs. It’s almost like he can feel the parasite laughing as it causes him agony, logically impossible but it feels so real, the horrific image of something _indescribable_ playing in his mind’s eye, taunting him.

Even as the pain ebbs away once more, he feels like he’s choking. He can’t breathe- he can’t fucking breathe- the air too heavy and thick to pull into his lungs despite his best attempts. Thousands of bugs feel like they’re crawling under his skin, trying to get out just like the parasite. He’s dying, he’s sure he’s dying, sharp pain in his chest throbbing to the beat of the rushing pulse in his ears.

Another stab of pain in his gut, and a cry rings in his ears before he tastes sour, acid, his stomach emptying itself- his nose clogging, eyes watering. Breathing hurts, it hurts, the air is made of needles just like the ones Hojo and Hollander poked into him, their disgusting smarmy faces appearing next to parasite in his mind, cooing and cackling. He’s in the labs, he’s sure of it, white coats at the edges of his vision, cold, metallic surface-

There’s voices around him, but they’re so vague and far away that he can’t hear what they’re saying, can’t figure it out. Someone’s asking him something but he can’t tell who, can’t make out what it is they’re asking- and then someone is _t o u c h i n g_ him and it burns it burns it _burns_ , but he’s too weak to do anything about it, parasite laughing in his mind as he struggles, sapping him of his energy. He’s in pain, his entire body is in pain and it’s ripping itself apart and he can’t do anything about it except lay there and _die_.

Time loses all meaning. He doesn’t know how much time passes. Minutes? Hours? He can’t tell. He can’t tell. His vision is fuzzy. His mind feels like it’s stuffed with cotton. Is he dead? Maybe. Perhaps it would be better if he was.

Someone’s talking to him again. He still can’t hear what they’re saying.

Distinct red hair flashes before his eyes. Familiar. That’s familiar.

His name. Red hair is saying his name. There’s more but-

Genesis. It’s Genesis. Genesis is talking to him.

“ _G’sis”_ He croaks between harried breaths. “ _Gen’s”_

“ _Sephiroth.”_ Genesis sounds so distraught, but his eyes aren’t working right, he can’t make out the man’s face- “Sephiroth, do you understand me? Breathe, Sephiroth, breathe.“

He can’t- he can’t breathe. Breathing hurts. Everything hurts. He tries to tell Genesis this, but all that comes out is a garbled whimper.

“Shh, don’t talk, just breathe, Sephiroth, follow my lead, okay?” Genesis shushes him. “Concentrate on me, just on me. Can I touch you? I’m sorry Zack didn’t ask earlier. Can I?”

Touch- touch- no, no touching, he doesn’t want- he can’t- no- _no_ -

“Hey, hey, don’t worry, nobody’s going to touch you-“ is that Angeal making a distressed sound in the background? “-just listen to my voice. I’ll tell you when to breathe, okay, Sephiroth? Just listen to me.”

He’s having a hard time understanding Genesis through the fog, through the rippling pain, but eventually he nods, focusing on Genesis. He tries, tries so hard to follow Genesis’ pattern as he speaks, Genesis’ voice as it counts. It’s so difficult. His mind isn’t cooperating. His body isn’t either. His breath stutters every time he tries to inhale, catches in his throat when he tries to exhale. His progress is halted every minute by deep, sharp pain in his back, his stomach, his hips, but Genesis is patient, talking him through it, until finally, _finally_ the fog starts clearing out of his mind. His breathing doesn’t quite slow to a normal rate, the tears in his eyes and snot in his nose continue running down his face- the pain lasts too long, comes back too quick, but at least he can think again.

He’s on his back, a worried looking Angeal between his legs with an even more anxious looking Zack behind him, while Genesis sits close by his head. Not looking at his rippling, clenching stomach. Eyes solely on him.

Another agonizing cramp.

“ _It hurts_ ,” he moans, “ _hurts so much-_ _I can’t-“_

“Sephiroth, we’re going to need you to push,” Angeal quietly speaks up, hiding his anxiety, “you’re- you’re giving-“

“ _No-_ “ he heaves, “ _no, no-_ “

“Sephiroth-“

“ _No!_ ” He cries out.

And _pushes._

It hurts, it hurts so bad, and everything starts to blur again, every cell in his body working on pure instinct alone. He feels the parasite shifting inside him, moving, _pushing, pushing_ \- working its way through him, ripping him apart- and yet he can’t stop, can’t resist the _urge_ anymore. Genesis speaks soothing words to him, but they’re meaningless, a garbled mess when all he can focus on is forcing the parasite out of him, an endless cycle of pain, pain, _more pain-_

Then a gurgling cry rips through the mountain range, and the urge is gone. It’s shrill, irritating to his ears as he heaves a gasping breath, tugging air inside his lungs.

“Sephiroth,” Angeal’s voice is tender, emotional, “it’s a boy, Sephiroth.”

A boy?

“You did great, Sephiroth.” Genesis’ voice follows. Not tender. Still emotional. Trying to hide… something. Sephiroth can’t place it right now. “You did great.”

“Whoa, it’s so _tiny!_ ” Zack’s voice is all excitement. How puppylike of him. “Hello, little man! I’m Zack!”

The excitement… pisses him off.

“He’s really cute, Sephiroth.” Angeal murmurs, holding the bloody, mucus covered… _thing_ out to him. “Do you want to hold him?”

The thing gurgles and cries, squirming in Angeal’s grip. Tufts of what can only be silver hair sprouting from it’s head.

It blinks.

It’s pupils are blue and slit.

Sephiroth is filled with an _overwhelming_ hate, unlike any he’s ever felt before. This thing- this _horrible_ creature is what Hollander and Hojo wanted out of him? This is what has been holding him down, what he was made into a lab rat once more for? _This_ thing?

No.

“Get it away from me.” He hisses, shuddering as he feels something pass through his vagina, but he can’t care about that right now. “Get that- that _thing_ away from me.”

“Sephiroth!” Angeal sounds affronted. “It’s a _child,_ you just gave birth to it, you can’t just- Genesis!” Angeal looks at Genesis, begging for his support with his eyes.

Genesis bites his lip, and looks away. He doesn’t reply.

“Get _rid_ of it.” Sephiroth hisses once again. “I _don’t_ want it near me.”

“Sephiroth maybe you need to calm down for a moment?” Zack sounds uncertain, eyes flitting from the parasite to Sephiroth and back. “You must be exhausted, it-it’s dawn, but you’ve been at it all night-“

“I said,” and anger wells up inside Sephiroth, burning, _cutting_ anger that bypasses any exhaustion or pain his body might be feeling, forcing himself upright, fury coursing through every cell of his body, “get that _thing_ away from me!”

With a power he didn’t know he even possessed, he _punches_ the thing out of Angeal’s hands, who makes a noise in surprise at Sephiroth’s sudden force, reaching out to catch the crying abomination- but he can’t, he’s too late-

The thing falls headfirst into the hard ground surrounding the mountain with a resounding _crack._

Then it’s silent.

“No!” Angeal yells, picking up the now-still body. “Sephiroth- what- what the _fuck?!_ ”

“Is it-“ Zack’s voice trembles, “is it dead?”

Angeal is silent for a moment, before he speaks up, voice full of disbelief.

“It’s- it’s dead.”

Sephiroth flops back down with a sigh.

“Good.”

“Sephiroth, how can you-“ Angeal starts, but he’s interrupted by Genesis.

“Leave it, Angeal.” He sounds surprisingly blasé. “What’s done is done.”

“Genesis, you can’t be serious-“

“You heard me the first time.” Genesis bites back, and oh, Sephiroth could _kiss_ him right now. “Leave. It.”

Silence falls over the four of them, oppressive and uncomfortable, but Sephiroth couldn’t give less of a shit. He finally, _finally_ got rid of the parasite, after it hurt him so much, after the pain it caused him. Killing it felt _good_ , even if it upset Angeal and Zack.

A sob breaks the silence.

“It- it was just a _baby,_ ” Zack’s voice trembles with anguish, “it didn’t do anything _wrong_ \- it-“

Sephiroth doesn’t bother listening after that. He’s tired, and after the small burst of energy fueled by hatred, he wants nothing more than to sleep. He’s still in pain, he’s naked and uncomfortable, face covered in snot and vomit, but he’s too exhausted to care.

Angeal and Zack murmur comforting words at each other, ignoring Sephiroth, which he is more than fine with. He’s not in the mood to _justify_ himself.

Genesis doesn’t talk to Zack and Angeal either, but his hand does find Sephiroth’s hair. He strokes it. It should probably be uncomfortable.

It’s rather pleasant.

If anyone tries to address him, Sephiroth is beyond caring now. Sleep is tugging at his mind, the fog of unconsciousness setting in.

With the voices of Zack and Angeal in the background, and the soothing strokes in his hair, Sephiroth falls into a deep, dreamless sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: @Foxyinferno321


End file.
